Our Second Chance
by ValeriaAnne
Summary: A very VERY late contribution to the ILYAnniversary2019.


He couldn't wait.

There was no way he would wait until tomorrow even if tomorrow is actually today, since it's 4:30 AM now.

He needed to see her. He needed to explain. God knows what she was thinking of him now. God knows how hurt she was feeling, how much the dark thoughts have consumed her already, and he REALLY needed to see her right now.

"Sherlock?" John's familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. They were both sitting at the back of one of _Mycroft's_ cars, which was taking them back to London.

"Mm?" Sherlock mumbled, looking out of the window.

"I was telling you that you can stay at my house for the time being until..."

"No. I need to see her." Sherlock cut him off.

"See who?"

"Molly."

John sighed, "Sherlock, I am not sure this is the best idea. You both need time."

"There is no time. Time will make it harder." Sherlock said, his voice raised a little.

"But, Sherlock..."

"Excuse me?" Sherlock suddenly turned and leaned forward to address the driver.

"Yes, sir?" the driver answered politely.

Sherlock quickly asked the driver to drive to John's address and then recited Molly's address that would be their next stop.

John fully turned to Sherlock, "Sherlock, listen to me. You are in no shape to..."

"None of us will be in shape to do anything properly for a long time, John. You, me, Molly, Mycroft, the Mayor's family, my parents, even Eurus." He breathed deeply and said in a lower voice, "I need to see her."

John opened his mouth to say something but then he thought against it. There was no way he could sway Sherlock, and anyway, maybe Sherlock was right. Maybe it was better sooner than later. But that one single question kept poking him in the head.

"So, Sherlock, does that mean that you, you know, meant what you said?"

Sherlock rested his head on the headrest and closed his eyes before saying, "As always, John, you see, but never observe."

* * *

Sherlock spent a good three minutes standing in front of Molly's front door, contemplating whether he should knock first or just use the key he already had. After deeply thinking of all possibilities, including Molly's reaction in both cases (After all, she was entitled to it), Sherlock decided to use his key.

Slowly and hesitantly, he placed the key in the keyhole and turned it anticlockwise. A moment later, he pushed the wooden door open and stepped inside, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible.

Taking a couple of steps inside the apartment, Sherlock was welcomed by Molly's sitting room that was now lit by early morning sunlight. He took a few steps further, sweeping the whole area with his eyes, and noticed that everything was in place, except Molly's phone that was discarded on the open kitchen's island.

Sherlock locked his gaze on the offending object, as if willing it to just disappear. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't hear the quiet padding behind him. He was awakened from his trance by a soft yet firm voice that quietly and steadily said, "Leave, please."

Sherlock turned quickly, nearly tripping over his own foot, the exhaustion and weight of the previous day adding to his slow reactions and sloppy steps.

"Molly." he breathed, taking her in as quickly as his eyes and mind could.

She was standing at the entrance of the hallway leading to her bedroom, wearing black pajamas and her slightly damp hair was put in a high messy bun. Sherlock was stricken by the sadness etched on her face, the puffiness of her swollen-red eyes and the slight tremor of her lips. He couldn't help but take an instinctual step forwards but was stopped by her, nearly shouting, "I said leave. The door is the other way."

Sherlock took the same step backwards, before putting his hands up in a placating gesture "Molly, please. Let me explain. I am..."

"I am sick." she calmly interrupted.

Sherlock blinked twice, not really following what she meant. Did she mean "sick" as in "flu" or something like that? She was making some tea when he...

"I am sick and I don't have a lot of time left."

Sherlock felt as if a bucket of ice was poured on him. He was rooted to the spot.

 _SICK!_

 _With no much time left!_

 _SICK as in "dying" sick?!_

"What?" he whispered in pain, his breaths are suddenly shallow and painful, as if something was gripping his chest.

Molly continued as if she didn't hear him "…so whatever you are here to say, whatever you want to explain, I don't want to hear it. It doesn't matter. It won't change anything."

"Molly?!" Sherlock said clumsily, as if he was trying to decipher what she was saying. The words seemed foreign to his ears and his mind refused to cooperate.

Molly went on, looking dead calm and so calculated as a robot, "Obviously, whatever you need to say can wait till I am gone, then you won't have to go through this and try to explain that it was for the greater good."

Sherlock couldn't take it anymore.

Molly dying. Molly is sick and dying.

Is that's why she wasn't having a good day?

Has he just given her the worst phone call in her life right after she received such news? Did Eurus know that? Did she time that phone call? Is that's why she said those words? She knew she was leaving already!

 _Oh, no. God, no!_

And a tear slipped on his cheek.

"I was trying to save your life. She said there were bombs here." he said, devastated.

Molly closed her eyes and shook her head vigorously. She didn't know what he was talking about, and it didn't matter. His words meant nothing to her anymore.

Sherlock felt his insides clinching painfully, "No, Molly, please, listen to me. She said she was going to kill you unless you say the words." he hurried, desperately. "I was trying to save your life. The threat turned out to be a lie but I didn't know. Molly, please, just give me..."

He was interrupted by Molly's sobs, "Save my life? I am dying, Sherlock." She shook her head in defeat and added, "It is too late to save my life." she said, followed by a sob that shook her whole body.

"No." he said softly.

"Please, leave."

"No." he indicated, his voice a little louder.

"Leave. I don't want to see you again." Molly murmured, her shoulders slumped.

"No. You can't..."

"Goodbye, Sherlock." she said sadly, looking at his face one more time, before turning on her heels and walking back to her bedroom.

For four agonizing seconds, Sherlock was frozen. He felt paralyzed, watching in horror as Molly retreated to her bedroom, not even looking behind to see if he was truly leaving her house as she wanted. She was shutting him out. She was shutting everything out.

 _NO!_

Suddenly, Sherlock jumped from his spot, and literally ran behind Molly to catch the bedroom's door before she could close it.

Before she could close it for good.

Molly was taken aback by the sudden action, yelping in surprise mixed with anger at his behaviour.

 _How dare he? How dare he push himself back into my life after what he did?_

Sherlock firmly pushed the door open, causing Molly to retreat into the bedroom, with furious eyes focused on him.

"Get. Out." she said, sternly.

"No." he replied as calm as he could, still holding the door open.

"I am calling the police. I am calling your brother." Her heart was hammering wildly in her chest. That was too much for her to handle. She didn't want to have that conversation. Not now. Not ever.

"Your phone is in the kitchen." Sherlock stated quietly taking one more step inside the bedroom he knew too well.

Molly shook her head then said in a lower voice, "Leave, Sherlock. There is nothing left here for you."

"You are here."

In a moment, Molly's anger returned in full force. She took two steps forwards, and before he could even comprehend, she slapped him. Hard.

"HOW DARE YOU?"

"Molly?!" Sherlock was taken aback by her unexpected action, his hand soothing his abused cheek.

Molly pushed his chest, outraged, "How dare you play with me like that? You said I mattered. You said I could see you. You said you need me. How could you do this to me? How dare you use me then discard me like garbage?" she screamed, hitting his chest with her fists as hard as she could, trying to push him away, and he just let her. Her punches hurt a lot but he let her. She had every right to do so.

Molly seemed like she couldn't stop, she was like a broken dam. She pushed him one last time and then took a step backwards, took a few deep breaths before saying, "Maybe it's time for you to start looking for another idiot to use."

Sherlock couldn't take it any longer. She was cutting all threads connecting them. Hell, she was cutting all threads connecting her to the world. It was now or never.

Sherlock gazed at her steadily and said, "I am not leaving. And you are not dying."

His words seemed to fuel her anger even more. She took another step forwards and pushed his as hard as she could to get him out of her bedroom, "You think you can come here and tell me what to do? Get out of my house!" Molly kept pushing and pushing but with every push, she grew more frustrated and he wouldn't budge. His mind was now focused on one thing; he wasn't going to leave. He was going to stay here even if his face was now soaked in tears, physical and emotional pain taking their toll on him.

Quickly, he caught both her fists in his, abruptly halting her physical abuse and looking her in the eyes.

"I am not leaving and you are not dying." he said firmly, though his eyes were pleading.

"Let go." she yelled, her whole body shaking from the extra effort. When he just kept staring at her she screamed rambunctiously, "LET GO!"

Molly tried to prey her hands out of his. She kept squirming and it was getting difficult for him to keep her hands locked in his without applying more pressure that could hurt her. So, in a last attempt, he turned her around, pushed her back to his chest and hugged her from behind, keeping her arms locked in his embrace.

Molly seemed unaware of what was happening, her fury was blinding. She just kept shouting at him to let her go and trying to escape his embrace but he wouldn't let go. He let her pour out all her frustration, devastation and anger and he just held her close. Slowly, she started getting quieter, her wild shouts turned to futile whispers and her wriggles turned to heart-wrenching sobs that tugged at Sherlock's newly-discovered heart.

Slowly, Sherlock eased them both down on the floor, still keeping Molly in his embrace protectively and burying his face in the crook of her bare neck, whispering soothing words to calm her down.

"Please, leave. Please, please, please, leave. Stop hurting me. I can't take it anymore." she kept saying in painful whispers.

He buried his face further in her neck, smelling her favourite shampoo on her damp hair, "Shush. I am not leaving you. Never again."

His response seemed to elicit a whine from her. She couldn't believe him.

Sherlock gently ran his calloused fingertips over her knuckles, the pain in his hands temporarily pushed aside, "I am so sorry I hurt you. Please let me make it up to you."

Molly's sobs were the only answer he got, and while she stopped wiggling out of his arms, he couldn't get himself to remove his arms a single inch.

They stayed like that for another 15 minutes; Molly sobbing and silently cursing her luck, mourning the life she never had and the chances that were stolen from her, and Sherlock holding her to him, trying to soothe her and think of what to do next. He still hasn't told her that while the whole phone call was a result of fake threat, he truly meant what he said, even if he was blind enough not to realize it until he had to say the words. He said them like he meant them. Just the way she wanted.

Sherlock took one deep breath and whispered, "Molly?"

She sniffled and said nothing.

"Molly?" he repeated.

"Mm?" she mumbled.

He swallowed nervously, "Would you be so generous and give me one last chance to explain? Just one more chance? And then the decision is all yours."

 _Nothing._

"One more chance, Molly."

"Okay." She murmured weakly.

Sherlock silently thanked whatever deity was listening, then he tightened his arms just a little more around her, pulling her closer to him, before he started telling the story from the very beginning; the story of the Holmes' children.

* * *

By the end of the story, Molly was nestled comfortably in Sherlock's embrace, resting her head on his chest.

It took them two hours to get to that point and now silence was deafening.

"I know that saying sorry is an understatement and I wish there was a more meaningful word to say to you, Molly. But believe me when I say, if I could go back in time and stop this, all of this, I would do it in a heartbeat."

Slowly, Molly raised her head and turned to look into Sherlock's eyes, "It was a life-changing day for all of us." she smiled sadly.

Sherlock understood what she meant and he quickly cupped her cheeks with his hands, "A good change, Molly. Painful but good."

"There is nothing good about..."

"You will get better." he interrupted firmly. "We will go to another doctor, and another doctor and another and we will try every medication out there until you are as good as new." he could clearly see that she felt defeated, that she was already accepting this illness, whatever it is, and was welcoming the end.

"Sherlock..." she attempted feebly.

He gazed into her eyes, "A few hours ago, I had to break your heart in order to save you from my maniac/genius sister. I am not about to surrender to something as mundane as sickness and let it take you away from me. Not now. Not after I know the truth. Our truth."

Molly casted her eyes downwards.

 _None of that._

Sherlock gently placed a finger under her chin and urged her to raise her eyes to meet his, "No more, Molly. Fight with me. We are doing this together."

"Together?"

"Always together." he smiled genuinely, then leaned and kissed her for the first time.

The day was life-changing indeed; so many truths coming out to the light, so many deep wounds that need a very long time to heal.

Maybe Eurus was right; so many words unsaid, so many days unlived. He lost many days with Molly in the past, and perhaps the remaining days won't be as long as the days they already missed, but he would make them count. Every single moment would count. That was his last vow.

Yesterday, Molly's life was threatened and he saved her, even if the threat wasn't real. Today, Molly is threatened for real and it's time for him to save her. It's time to save the woman who counted. The woman who mattered the most.

 _The Game in ON!_


End file.
